Defining one’s self
Self-definition
Traversing the terrain, life’s expedition
This is the stuff of the human condition

Trying to give some meaning to this existence
Confined by the freedom of open spaces
Deceived by a sea of smilingfaces
Doubletalk and shades of speculation

theTruth seems to have no definitive location
And neither sage nor prophet are my vocation
Certainty is not my creation, for I am not sanctioned
This all probably sounds like a nihilist declaration

How do I determine my purpose for existence?
I fret the answer remains hidden despite arduous persistence
Resistance to a belief in a higher being’s will I will admit
But evidence in support reveals itself err’day

What is my function?
I suspect it’s not as simplistic as conjunction-junction
I’ve been reaching for one thing for years
A road tempered with blood, sweat, and tears

And Who Am I? Really, Who Am I?
Is “I” the composite of he, she, and them?
Is there something truly that comes from within?
Are we doomed to depend on others to define ourselves?

I feel like that last piece of the puzzle that fails to fit
Like a body in free fall over a bottomless pit
Every which way I turn I get motion sick
I’m sick and tired of this shit

Sometimes I spend too much time in my mind
It gets quiet, but I hate the silence
Because I have to deal with the verbal violence
I guess that’s why they say no man’s an island.